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by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Series: But I Meant Forever [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks he should have felt more when it ended. It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know it was coming. Their future living arrangements, the way Louis would pull away whenever she was near – physical or not. That was probably the most telling.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> so this one is more of the continuation of the unhappy harry/emo verse which started with [IT MEANS HOW IT SOUNDS](http://archiveofourown.org/works/439093) and then [FORTY PERCENT (PROOF)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/442354) and then this just made me depressed writing it so.. i stopped.

“Harry.”

“Hey, Harry.” Harry feels himself being pulled to the surface, Liam’s voice breaking into a slumber he feels like he finally fell into.

“Hazza, time to wake up mate.” And Harry nods, leaning into Liam’s touch, soft and reassuring on his shoulder.

Liam sighs and Harry tries to feel bad that he’s such a shit at being woken up, especially when they’ve been flying all this time and Liam probably wants to curl up beside Haz and dream too.

“Come on, you don’t want to miss this. Sun’s coming up.” Liam lifts the cover on the window to Harry’s side and Harry squishes his eyes closed harder, the sudden influx of light almost blinding. But he can’t keep them closed too long, Liam is pushing at him again so he does and blinks and blinks and hopes Liam will mistake the few tears on his cheek as irritants from his eyes being burst with sunlight.

“Home, Harry. We’re finally back home.”

Liam sounds the opposite of how Harry feels.

He doesn’t even turn his head to see if Louis is looking too. He doesn’t have cause to check up on Louis anymore.

: : :

He thinks he should have felt more when it ended. It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know it was coming. Their future living arrangements, the way Louis would pull away whenever she was near – physical or not. That was probably the most telling.

Louis was probably as attached to his phone as Harry was. These little boxes that linked them to a world outside the mayhem and madness that was their public lives. With one push, they were linked to people that knew and loved them for who they were – not the face or the sound but the person underneath it all. One touch of a button – a simple text could remind you of everything that you felt like you were losing in the face of being public property. Louis suffered from home sickness the most – constantly needing that reassurance from a mother he was close to and friends and family to use as touchstones when life was becoming too big, too loud. Harry was the same – on a slightly smaller scale. Messages to his family were one thing, calls to mates back home was another – then there was how easy it was to talk over typed words.

Especially when it came to Louis.

Especially when they weren’t physically able to keep in contact as much as they wanted.  
Well, as Harry wanted.

So text had became their thing. When they were sitting in an interview together separated by Liam or Zayn or sometimes both – it was the little _‘miss you .x’_ that would make Louis smirk. It was the _‘stop staring. Ur making me hard’_ that would take Harry’s breath away. It was the indiscreet – or not so – that kept them together even though they were apart. It wasn’t unusual for one or the other or both of them to have their phones at an interview. It wasn’t strange for either one of them to be mucking around on the thing while waiting for the questions to start or whilst letting another of the lads repeat answers that they all knew off by heart.

What _was_ strange, was the way Louis looked when Harry didn’t text him at all.

It was steamy and a whole different world of hot in Florida. They’d been inside the venue for a while warming up, getting to know the stage before that evening’s concert when Paul had rounded them up for yet another mindless radio interview. Harry was working out issues with the feed in his ear and had nodded to Louis and Niall to go on ahead without him. He did feel slightly put out when Louis didn’t stay and wait, just nodded and left a few seconds after Niall. He brushed it off – had been brushing it off for the past few days, well, since the bus arrived in Charlotte and he’d woken up without Louis wrapped around him, just naked and alone to Paul telling him to hurry his arse up.

They hadn’t shared a room that night either.

It was fine, really. Sometimes they did things on their own. Generally, it was when _she_ was around but on occasions, time apart was needed. Harry understood that. Mostly. 

But she’d just left and they’d be returning home soon and then they’d be packing their flat and moving out and they still hadn’t discussed how things would move on from there. Would they even able to visit each other? Before they left for the US leg of the tour, they’d not even been able to go to a concert or even have dinner together without speculation. What would happen now if they did any of that? Would Louis step in again and tell Harry to take it back a notch, that their time would come, to wait. Wait and wait and wait and _wait_. If there was one thing Harry knew how to do it was wait. Patience of a fucking saint some would say, but now. Now was different. Now was Louis’ house and Harry’s flat and. . . Harry still didn’t know how to deal with that.

And Louis always shut him down with kisses or teasing touches of his skin whenever Harry brought it up. _“We’ll talk about it later, we’re only going to be alone like this for a little longer. Let’s make the most of this, Harold.”_ So Harry would and he’d try to memorise every moan elicited from his tongue tasting the soft skin at the nape of Louis’ neck or the warmth of Louis’ hand in his when they watched a movie together. Or just how good any part of Louis’ smelled in the morning when Harry would wake up and breathe him in. He’d try to think of as many labels as possible for the blue of Louis’ eyes – even looked up a crayola colour chart to match them properly (manganese blue, blue lagoon, morning glory – nothing seemed quite right).

Harry finally got things set with the sound crew and took off at a pace to where the interview was taking place outside. The heat hit him like a furnace, sweat breaking out upon his brow the moment he opened the door so he started rolling his sleeves up, anything to get a little more air on his heated skin. He smiled a little when he noticed Louis had sat in the middle. It wasn’t often he and Louis had interviews together or in a threesome like they were today, and even less usual that they were next to each other – then again this time they had Niall there and he always made exceptions for them both. It was as he was walking over though, that he caught sight of Louis playing with his phone and the bubble of happiness from something as simple as seating arrangements popped completely with the look Louis had when he unlocked the screen.

That little half smile, that quick breath in and out. It confused Harry for a moment because he hadn’t sent Louis anything. They weren’t even allowed to interact on twitter anymore, but here was Louis with a look that signified something shared between them. Harry knew that look well, it was _his_ look so why was it there? It wasn’t the sad tinge to the corner of his eyes that he would get if his mum or sisters were writing. It wasn’t that crinkled nose smirk he would get if it was one of the lads or Stan back home. It wasn’t the sigh and slight brow raise from management. It was _Harry’s_ look and it wasn’t being directed at Harry. He sat down and spared a quick glance at Lou who just smiled at him and then looked back at the interviewer. That was that really.

Harry was quiet for most of it. Sitting there really trying to figure out what was going on with Louis – who hardly interacted with him at all – but then again Harry wasn’t exactly chatty either. They finished it off and did a few fan photos and then it was back inside and warming up some more. Harry tried not to think about it. Tried to put the day and the days before out of mind and once they were on stage it was easy enough. Louis was bouncing around and being his usual self which made Harry lose his inhibitions and act the same. Then that night when Louis pulled away early to get some shut eye – Harry was back to where he was in the morning – wondering what exactly had gone wrong.

He had his answer the next morning. Louis had left his phone on his bunk, off annoying Liam in the kitchenette by the sounds of things and Harry – well he just wanted to _know._ His stomach was in knots as he picked the thing up, unlocking it quickly and scrolling through the few texts Lou had had, looking for something that would stand out. Something that would have Louis smiling like that – all soft and sweet and almost mooning over what he read. He knew when he found it. Knew the second that _her_ name was there that it was exactly what he’d been looking for and not willing to believe he’d find instead. It wasn’t even anything overly filled with feelings. Just a quick note, something he himself had sent to Louis before but this hurt, this hurt because it wasn’t from him and then Louis’ answer was enough to push him over completely.

_“can’t w8 to c u either babe! xox”_

It was nothing but it was everything because the timing was right and it meant more than it should. More than Harry should have let it but on reading the words, he dropped Louis phone like it was hot and barely made it to the loo before everything he’d eaten in competition with Niall and a great stack of pancakes earlier came rushing back up.

He was texting _her_ and giving _her_ Harry’s look.

She wasn’t supposed to be _anything_ like that. A distraction. A helpful pretty face to hide what was really going on. Sure, she wasn’t completely aware of that but that was Louis’ doing, not Harry’s. Harry thought she was supposed to be second fiddle to his place in Louis world. Obviously he’d been demoted. The thought that Louis might actually be enjoying his time with her more than he was with Harry was just – unfathomable. He was supposed to want to be with Harry more than he wanted to be with her. He was supposed to covet the time they had together as much as Harry did. He was supposed to want to be with Harry, supposed to be making plans with Harry for their future not looking forward to spending time with her. In their house. With their new furniture and a fucking new bed and surfaces to fuck his obviously returned feelings into.

He was supposed to love Harry not her.

Not her.

: : :

 

And it's not any better when they get home. 

Well, when Harry gets home because Louis is with her and he never really even touched a foot on home soil before fucking off again to make _her_ or _them_ happy and Harry had no say in it. Won't have a say in anything ever again if this is how Louis chooses for it to go.

To end.

He faffs about for the next two weeks. He goes out with the lads and see's Nick and spends time in the arms of what feels like real friendship and smiles more than he has done in what feels like the longest time. Nick takes him on stupid picnics and out and to the radio station and Harry hides and acts like the teen that he is.

It's nice. It's lovely. Really.

Then Louis comes home and. . . it's not anymore.

: : :

They orbit around each other like distant planets around the fading star that once was their love, shining, burning so, _so_ bright it was a wonder they ever even thought they could have it, survive it. It's dull now, this glimmer of what it was and neither of them say anything, just make breakfast, pass the salt, two cups of tea made just right and slip and slide out of each others lives ignoring the friction that once would have made them stop and just _give in_ to each other - now it just an itch that you ignore and hope will fade away without anything having to be done about it.

Which is what they both do. Ignore the conversation they've been ignoring really since the end of the tour. Maybe pushing aside since the beginning of it all really. They pretend and pretend until one night when Harry gets home and he's not drunk - well not _really_ drunk and it all just comes bubbling up and out and his voice is so loud and strong and he's shaking.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair on you and it’s not fair on her and it’s not fair on me. And yeah, yeah, it was good while we were on tour. It was great that we both had someone and fuck it all, Louis. You know that I love you, I’ll always love you but I need more.” Harry paused, it was probably the longest and most put together sentence he’d uttered to Louis about their sort of relationship since the beginning when they just fell into whatever this was/had been with each other. He doesn’t look up at Louis, can’t. 

“I need all or nothing and I don’t think you can do that. I know you can’t.”

“And Nick can?” Louis asks, his words filled with ice and they’re bitter like the looks he throws at Harry everytime Nick’s name comes up or Nick pops over or Harry answers his bloody phone to him.

Harry sighs, leaning back into the sofa, “Nick would if I asked,”

His sort of confession hangs in the air, there’s the quiet near muted canned laughter from whatever crap Louis was watching before Harry got in and decided to unload.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Louis near whispers and Harry manages to look up then, see’s Louis still sitting on his end of the sofa, feet tucked up under him, arms crossed over his chest and hair fallen over his face, hiding his eyes. Harry can still see his lips though, a fine trembling white line and it tugs at his heart.

He wonders just for a second if Louis will always have this pull, this hold over him.

And dismisses the thought the second after because he _knows_ everyone gets over their first love. Maybe not entirely, but people do go on. Nick did, Caroline did, fuck - even his mum did so it can happen. Eventually.

The laughter is louder now that they’re both silent. Harry counts his breaths, traces the lines on his wrist that make up words that he hoped would change Louis mind, mostly knowing that they wouldn’t. He sits and he waits because he has no idea what is left to say. He had thought Louis might fight him about it, might have raged a little or got pissed off at the very least and stormed off but this? Louis just sitting there, arms wrapped around himself so tight that his knuckles are whiter than his lips - Harry didn’t prepare himself for this.

“I’m, I’m just gonna go, yeah?” Harry says eventually after he can’t keep still and he can’t handle the silence any longer. He stands and pats down his pockets, even though he never emptied them when he came in. 

“You just got in,” Louis says, and when Harry turns to look at him, Louis has finally raised his head and there’s red rimming his eyes, wet tracks on his cheeks that he doesn’t even attempt to hide. Harry bites down hard, near grinding his teeth together because he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to hurt Louis but _Christ_ he’s been hurting himself with this, with a love that was hidden and felt so one sided at times that Harry doubted himself, and he hated that. He hates that he is still under contract and they tell him not to give too much away about his likes and dislikes when it comes to relationships, that he can’t get loudly pissed off about how the media portray him as this complete slag when he hasn’t taken anyone home properly since Caroline and a handful of friends after that. He hates that the fans talk up every single body movement or catch of the eye he’s had with Louis so now in interviews and appearances they barely make contact with each other at all. He really hates that they’re not on tour and when they aren’t - it’s back to hetero Louis and non-descript but supposedly leaning towards hetero himself Harry. 

He hates that he has to constantly guard what he says, the way he says it. He hates that he has to remind himself who he can and how he can touch and be touched when all he wants to do is just _be_ himself.

Most of all, he hates that he lives two versions of himself and this, leaving what he had with Louis behind will fix it. Mostly.

“I know,” he says, his fingers twitching at his side to just lean over and wipe Louis cheeks and maybe kiss away the evidence of his sorrow but that’s not his job anymore. Never really was. If he was friendly in any way at all with Eleanor he’d give her a call and get her to come look after Louis but he’s not, never even bothered to have anything to do with her apart from when he had to. He likes her fair enough, but sharing Louis was on the condition Louis didn’t talk about her when she wasn’t there and it was _his_ time with Harry. Danielle is friendly with her and he sort of adores Liam’s girl so Harry figures he’ll text her when he leaves. When he goes wherever it is that isn’t here anymore.

“Back to Nick I suppose,” Louis says with venom in his tone and there’s a brightness to his eyes, a sort of squint at the edges that make him look hard. It disguises or erases the hurt from before and leaves Harry wondering if he ever really saw it. 

Harry shakes his head and starts for the door, “This is why I need to go, you’ve got not right, Lou. No right at all.”

He’s fairly certain the red glass vase Eleanor brought while she and Lou were in Nice is what he hears smashing when he closes the door behind him.

: : :

He ends up at Nicks.

It’s not like Harry doesn’t have anywhere else to go, he does, really. Nialler’s home - his last tweet was about maybe doing a twitcam and Harry really can’t deal with that. Liam is with Andy and Maz according to Andy’s last instagram update and Harry isn’t one for dealing with Andy at the best of times so that’s out. Zayn is at a Little Mix concert and Harry would see Ben or any of the other lads from Holmes Chapel but that would mean going home and his mum is there and he can’t deal with that either. There’s Gemma, but she’s busy with her own life and maybe Caroline but the last time they were even at a party together rumors started up again.

Harry really does find it hard to just bloody have a friend.

He eventually figures, fuck it, there’s already shit about him fucking Nick (which he hasn’t - kissed, yes because everyone does at least once with a good looking, charming mate at least once while drunk) so that’s how he ends up on Nick’s doorstep.

Nick takes one look at him and just drags him inside and Rita’s there giggling but she even stops when she catches sight of Harry.

He runs a hand through his hair and asks, “What?” then realises that his hand is wet and he is actually shaking from being completely saturated - he hadn’t even realised it was raining.

“He says ‘what’ like we didn’t know he was out there thirty minutes ago or have asked him three times to come in,” Nick says with a sad sort of grin and that’s enough really to have Harry laughing.

It becomes hysterical for a few minutes until he breaks and Nick is there holding him and he catches sight of Rita murmuring something about getting Harry warm. They're in Nick’s bathroom next and Harry can’t find it in himself to say anything when they undress him. He’s sort of numb - more than just his skin - when they get him into the shower and somehow all three of them are in there and he leans into Rita who’s holding him as Nick washes his hair and runs his hands over Harry’s back. It’s nice this. Feeling wanted and safe in between two people that he trusts and that he knows like him enough to love him at the very least a little. He thinks nothing of it as they stumble into Nick’s room, only snuggles into Rita’s bust, her ample bosom giving him a soft pillow as Nick curves up behind him, all three naked, and he’s asleep before he can even wonder about it being weird in the morning.

The morning however, is not weird.

Well, is weird a little.

Maybe a lot weird, but not, because yes, they’re naked and yes, there are three of them in the bed and one of them is most decidedly gay but - a getting over your heartbreak threesome between friends can’t be _too_ strange can it?

It only gets a little weird at the end, when he’s wiping Nick’s come from his chest and still sort of reeling from the fact he actually made Rita squirt when she rode him (because wasn’t it just girls in pornos that did that?) Rita sort of passes out again beside him and Nick gets up on shaky legs, fetching a warm cloth and throws it at Harry to clean himself up. Nick takes it when Harry’s done, screwing up his nose and holding the damn thing by a corner and disappearing for a moment before curling up beside Harry on his return. Harry rolls over to face Nick as they share a pillow, ignoring how Rita is softly snoring behind him and the fact - they’re both nude and he just gave his mate a hand job while snogging him senseless. 

Nick smiles, soft and his eyes are round and bright, “Hi,”

“Hello,” Harry says in return, all husky and soft because this is sort of normal for them. Waking up in each other’s presence - though usually Nick has pants on. Harry - as always, is unashamed of his body and comfortable enough with Nick to sleep nude or even _be_ nude in his mates presence.

He knows Nick is giving him a chance to bring up why he arrived in the state he was in. He also knows if he leaned in and just kissed Nick now, Nick would be happy with that too but he’d still be waiting for Harry to talk.

Nick was patient. Too much so.

Harry blinks and Nick still stares at him and he thinks about how he can possibly start this without it coming out wrong.

In the end he settles for, “So I’m proper single,” and Nick just stares, murmuring “Proper,” with no indication of his thoughts on the matter. 

Harry nods leaning his forehead in to rest against Nick’s, his eyes flutter closed because that ache is back in his chest. That Doncaster sized hollow and it should be weird that he thinks of Louis like that - encompassing a whole place but Louis _is_ so big and bright and brash - he really should be the entire United Kingdom.

“He thinks it’s because I’m fucking you,” Harry whispers, his fingers reaching out to find Nick and coming to rest on the curve of Nick’s hip. 

“Him and the rest of Sugarscape,” Nick says and Harry snorts, a smile coming to his lips.

“Guess they’re all right now,” Harry says, his fingers pressing into Nick’s warm skin as he feels Nick’s lips press over his right brow, then his cheek.

“Not really,” Nick says, a breath against Harry’s lips and Harry - even though sleepy again and sated gets what this is. Understands that he could really kiss Nick now, kiss him slow and deep and then Nick would probably slide down his body and open Harry up and Harry would let him, would open his legs and welcome Nick in. But - because even now, even with everything there is _always_ a but - if he did that, then it would mean no going back. Harry can’t have even have the possibility of having something with Nick - not when the otherside of the coin meant if things went tits up - he might not have anything with Nick at all. 

Harry must wait too long or something because Nick sighs and pulls back, his eyes not quite focusing on Harry’s like they were, guarded almost, “Not at all.”

Harry opens his mouth to apologise, say something to make this better but he stops when Nick sucks in a deep breath and grins, pressing his forehead back against Harry’s. “‘s’all right, love. Wouldn’t have been that great you know,”

And Harry scoffs, “You saying I’d be a bad shag, Mr. Grimshaw?” digs his fingers a little into Nicks side and has the older man arching out of his touch.

“I’m saying that _oh you cheeky bugger_ , you’d, _fuck off, Harry_ be, be,” He gives up saying anything after that - probably because he can’t breathe for laughing.

: : :

So maybe it’s not great. Maybe everythings gone to shit but maybe, just maybe if he can find himself smiling like he hasn’t done in what feels like a forever. 

Maybe it’ll be okay.


End file.
